A tail

A story

There was this old guy I once new. He had worked hard and lived a productive, useful, life. He was dedicated to his wife who had also lived in a good and rewarding way. They had raised a flock of children who had gone on to be good adults and parents themselves. Of this accomplishment they were the most proud. Through the highs and lows they had remained dedicated and in support of one another. Always allowing, or filling in, for the other limitations. It was one of those rare and great pairings.

After retiring from work they spent a lot more time with their friends, some of whom they had known since they were kids, and taking care of the grand children. They travelled a bit, although he preferred to be at home, and were active in the community where they had lived for most of their life.

As these things sometimes happen the wife declined into infirmity after experiencing a series of mild strokes. The man did all he could to make sure she was comfortable and did his best to look after her.

One day, while his beloved slept, he decided to mow the lawn. It was looking a tad shabby. As he pushed the mower around the back yard he started to feel ill or maybe it was more of a sudden weakness. Resolutely he finished his task, put the mower away and straitened up the house a little.

With these tasks finished and his darling still asleep he sat in his comfortable chair and passed away.

Quake

Quake 4 is a game. It is a first person shooter with a M16 rating. I am nearing the end of the game right now and have overcome a couple of real nasty badies in the last couple of weeks. At times the urge to google up some cheats has been sever but I have resisted. I have resited looking at reviews and the Wikipedia entry (that I surely know will have plot spoilers in it). I have discovered the game as corporal Matthew Kane in the war against the Strogg with no reference except the game packaging.

One of my friends is also playing the game but I refuse to talk to him about it for fear of pollution in my discovery of the plot.

After repeated cyber deaths and times when I could barely control my trembling mouse hand the end is near. I am with in the nexus and glory is only a few deaths away.

MP3

I have just resurrected my MP3 player. The battery failed a few months ago (yes I failed to get a new one when I was in Singapore) and I have finally replaced it.

I had been using it with the bung battery via the battery charger. Unfortunately the poor little charger couldn’t cope with trying to charge the stuffed battery and playing music and it also failed.

To get the OEM (original equipment manufactures) spare battery was about $100 and the charger was similar. After returning home from Singapore I found a store in Singapore that would sell them for S$50 each but that wasn’t much help. I tried the after market market. I phoned a few local battery shops. They wanted between $50 and $80 each. – outrageous. I ended up getting an appropriately rated power supply for about $25 from a local electronics shop and got the battery on line for $35 including delivery - bargain.

Anyhow it all works nicely and I have mobile music once more. Yay

The clean room

My house is largish. Not a huge mansion but a fairly comfortable single story home. My son has very generous room. It is about 6 x 4m with a 2 x 2.5m entry foyer (for want of a better description). Sort of an L shape. In it are his single bed, bedside table, a 2.4m long desk, two large book shelves that are attached to either side of a corner unit and a small coffee table.

In his room there are 13 drawers and about 17 linear meters of shelving and desk top.

Now he is only ten so he hasn’t really had much time to accumulate much junk so you would think this spacious room with just oodles of storage would look rather Spartan. Wrong! It is cram packed with junk.

Each drawer puffs open (well the ones that aren’t so jammed with stuff to the point they no longer can be opened). There isn’t a square centimetre of desk space on which he can work. The floor is generally covered with bits of Lego or meccano or cars or bits of cut up paper or other junk. The shelves are piled with toys and books and yet more junk.

It distress my partner greatly. The trouble is it is his junk and he will not part with it. I can sympathise with that. I did help him do a bit of re-organising of the junk and the room looks a little more presentable. I even gave him the “put it back when you have finished” lecture but I know I was just blowing into the wind.

There is no cure. There is no reprieve. He has been cursed with the pack rat gene. Forever he will be cursed with having to get ever increasing storage space to house his valuable junk. Poor kid.

A working arrangement

Well its been an interesting week on the work front. I am struggling to get the company I am contracted to too make a decision on the project I have been working up for the past six month. It has been and off again, on again proposition. They want the job done but are struggling with forking out the cash for what essentially is a system upgrade (no production increase). Most of the benefits are reliability driven and they haven’t had a catastrophic failure to spur on the decision.

In the mean time I was the target of a poaching exercise. A former boss has been grooming me for an offer from the company he has just started with. I had a couple of meetings with the management of that company and the role seemed fairly good. Lots of independence, lots of nice technical challenges and a bit of travel to exotic locations – but not too much, sounded great.

I was entertaining them based on the performance of the current company with respect to the approval of the project mentioned above (its about 8 months of solid interesting work at a very nice pay scale plus ongoing support). If they don’t pick up the project I would be left doing fairly trivial small projects for them and that is not what I am after at this stage.

So the poachers finally came through with the offer. If was verging on an insult. The bottom line was about 20% les than what I am getting now. On top of that the form of contract was so one sided that I could well be much worse off based on an hourly rate. During the discussions there was lots of talk about 8 hour days, flexibility and extra cash for working away etc but in the contract it was framed as “you will work what the job requires” and the stated (low) salary covered everything.

I have been burnt by this sort of arrangement before and will not be fooled twice. So while my current arrangement is prone to uncertainty it is honest. I get paid for the hours I work and if they don’t like my work or they run out of things for me to do they let me go. Very simple.

Tag

There was a time when I was young and foolish. I was as mixed up and confused as the next but I wasn’t a vandal. I saw it happening first hand, done by guys in the group I was hanging with, but, I could not wilfully damage an others property. This post is about vandalism. It is in response to my regular readers outrage at the stupid practice of tagging. I agree that vandalism in this form seems rife at the moment but I don’t think it is any worse than the vandalism of old, just more visible.

Back in my day spray paint was a luxury item and the only time it was used/misused was when some one managed to pinch a can or two. Back then spray graffiti was more often done by an older person pushing some political agenda. Now it seems that every available surface in suburbia is fair game for a meaningless spray on scribble.

I don’t mind graffiti to much if it is artistic, humorous, has some message or is just clever. I hate it when it is just destruction; like the act, of some pitiful soul, placing a huge number of identical unidentifiable marks over every surface. I hate mindless damaging of property, the environment or creating danger for others. Tagging is mindless vandalism.

Graffiti has always been around. From early cave paintings to the tags left in the support chambers of the great pyramid of Khufu (Cheops) at Giza or in the toilet cubical I just visited (Would the person with the V8 arse please select a lower gear or use the brush after they have finished). There are examples of it from every culture. Some people are subversive and shy at the same time.

Meaningless vandalism has also always been around. Our hapless tag artist is basically a brick thrower. I suspect that a lot of it stems from an individual trying to look tough in front of his group – sort of an extension to the tough guy carving up a table with his blade in front of the gang. Defiance to gain acceptance. It is a different type of person who throws a brick through a window at the local school and the person who wrote ‘Eternity’ all over Sydney Australia.

Maybe that is the difference. Vandalism says only one thing; I don’t give a toss about you: graffiti conveys deeper messages.

Then there are the mentally disturbed vandals, the sociopaths. Arsonists would be the most recognisable but also the sort that set trip wires or spikes on walk ways or other despicable acts. These are sick people. I hate what they do but I understand they have a disorder so this moderates my anger (but not by much).

Finally there is the professional vandal. People like a criminal who covers their tracks by destroying the scene of the crime or maybe the person creating a timely insurance claim.

So it is my view that these meaningless tags are little more than the antics of your typical antisocial gang. The entry price to the club is to scrawl your mark. I even suspect that some of them wouldn’t even know the other members of the club. I guess at that extreme it would be the sociopathic mental disorder mentioned above. In my mind I can’t separate this from the letter box smashing or denting cars that went on when I was young.

Arseholes are a constant of society.

Going to a funeral

I went to funeral today. It was for my great aunt who had reached the impressive age of 97. Her daughter (my aunt ), my cousins and second cousins were there, so was my mother and a few of my sisters.

My aunt had prepared a bio of her mum for the service which was read by a family friend. This lady had lived through the depression and the bombings of WW2 in East London. She had been married and lost children, some to disease and one to a car accident. Her husband had died nearly 40 years ago.

The accident which killed one of her children also killed that child’s partner orphaning five of her grandchildren. My aunt and uncle brought them all to this country where I first met them. I was about 13 at the time. My uncle bought a min bus to transport the whole extended family; him and my aunt, his three, the five orphans and Gran. She was called Gran by every one, including me, my cousins, their friends, and obviously, the 5 kids from the UK.

When they were all piled in the bus there was one spare seat. I was lucky enough to get that seat when I joined them on three or four camping trips. We stayed in camp grounds near the coast and explored the countryside. These trips are some of the treasured memories of my adolescence. I learned a few things on those trips; like beer and mussels (shell fish) and savoury crackers are a great combination, that girls on holiday are more adventurous and I needed to learn how to surf.

My first fumbling into the adult world were with the girls I met on these trips but that will have to be the subject of a future post. I am remembering a life that intersected mine and not presenting an exploration of my juvenile passions.

Just after this period in my life I got my drivers licence and my independence. I didn’t hang around the family much and essentially lost touch with my cousins. I did see them (and Gran) on family occasions. Now with every one grown up and married the occasions seem limited to funerals such as today. I suspect it is just a symptom of my post modern existence. I guess those extended family ties are just one of the things that have been surrendered to the suburban dream.

My memories of Gran are of something of a cross between Margaret Thatcher and the queen mother. She had a dignity and fiery spirit that were still evident when I first met her all those years ago. But my strongest impression of her was always that of a frail old lady. Thin and fragile.

She never spoke to me much and I can’t recall a one on one conversation with her. She was just there. Not a shadow, as some old people become in a large group, but not really interested in engaging with a pimply lad (I can respect that). She would sing along at the camp fire and I can recall her scolding her grand children for some misdemeanours but that is about it.

I remember her.

So much to do, so little time

I was astounded the other day while I was in deep conversation with one of my brothers in law. He was talking about work and I was talking about not working being the ultimate goal of working. He asked “Well, what would you do if you didn’t work?” He framed it as rhetorical question. I was stuck for words. What an alien concept.

I find myself always in the position of having more than enough things to do. This is fine but it can be a bit wearing. There is always just one more thing to do, or see, or read. If I could figure out a way of sleeping less and still be capable of functioning I would do it.

One thing that I do do (and may be to much) is just sitting around watching TV or playing a video game. I do these for release and relaxation. I need relaxation and release. So while I spend time doing stuff that isn’t productive it is still stuff that needs to be done.

The balance is never right, I don’t think it can every be. I know I spend to much time at work but I only do what I have to. Five days a week I leave my home at about 07:15 and get home by 17:30. I limit my work hours to this period, except when I am away, then it is typically12 hr plus days.

I like to make stuff and I do far too little of this. It doesn’t really matter what I am making but while I am building I am engaged. I don’t mean telling other people how to make stuff, that is what I get paid for, I mean actually cutting up a piece of wood or metal or soldering a piece of electronics. Making words on a screen is fun.

Reading, learning and understanding are precious to me. Wether it is reading a novel or science mag, trolling the internet for political arguments or just setting up a home network it is fun.

Sitting on a beach or by the river, riding a bike, surfboard or canoe are things that also rate highly that I do too little of. I never walk the dog.

There are also tasks I am fairly neutral about. I don’t mind cleaning up the garden or maintaining the pool and house. That sort of thing is O.K. At an extreme I don’t even mind shopping provided I have a strong objective (read a shopping list). Things that should be done (and ultimately have to be)

Some things I hate doing. This would be typified by doing my tax return. It is a relatively trivial thing that I avoid. I dislike work functions (but quite like a good party with friends). There are others but even the thought of them makes me recoil. Bad stuff that gets done (eventually).

There is just so much to do and work definitely interferes with doing it.

Trying

So I tell my son to all ways do his best. This is good advice but very hard to uphold as a value. It is just so easy to do just enough. The problem is that just enough is generally not good enough. Sure it will get you through in the short term but in the long run it will come back on you.

This is something I know and have experienced both first and second hand. I will not give any examples.

To work at the limit of your abilities is one sure way of extending your abilities. That is what practice is all about. This is the message that I know down to my bones but find it hard to express. It often takes only a tiny additional effort and thought to do your best, for example, practicing a piece of music. If you just go through the motions you gain little. If you concentrate and try to play a piece better than you ever have before improvement will come quickly. The difference in effort is virtually zero. As a bonus, by concentrating, the time will go quicker and the level of satisfaction will be higher.

I guess there are two very different outcomes for people with this regard. Those that will eventually reach their true potential and those that will not. I know far more of the later.

The thing that troubles me is that I know lots of intelligent people that are doing very little with their life. People that should be doing great and interesting things. Instead they find themselves in low paid, dead end jobs. Some of them are happy – excellent, others are frustrated.

This is a vital message for life. The problem is I think the only way you can learn it is from experience and by then it can be late.

Repeat the following mantra 50 times a day: “I will always do my best”. After a while you will be unable to do anything but.

If you add “If I see something that needs doing I will do it” you will live a very interesting life. Or at least justify domestic blindness.

Dribble

Verbiage abounds in this world of ours. So many things said and often repeated. Our leaders orate slippery words of no meaning. A sales pitch for a product I could never buy. Opinions eloquently written and funny news stories amuse me a lot. Occasionally the truth is found and I sigh with pathos.

When a gem is coined it is delightfully. A rhythm resonates through the telling in an ocean of babble. Forgetting rememberable quotes is my speciality or retelling them so badly the beauty is lost. .

But I alone with my ego for company type away and process my words for no one but me. Sometimes I think that there is a reader, but the illusion passes quickly, and once more I write for my own amusement. It is a bit more than passing the time, but not by much.

I like to re-read some of the stuff I have written. For there I can agree fully with the author. I liked my tale from August last and I think that some of the other stuff is tops. I know my style is a little jerky and seldom do I correct the typos completely. But this is just for me. I acknowledge the errors and dismiss them promptly. Oh shit, I’ve slipped into rhyming.

I’m sorry if you have read this in search of meaning. I will correct that situation by tomorrow, late afternoon.

Strange days

There are days for all sorts of thing these days, not to mention weeks months and years.

I don’t know what day it is to day, well it is Friday 12 May 2006, but it might well be ‘Free the Lithuanian Maoist share trading day’ or duck egg blue ribbon day (to raise funds for the orphans of karoshi (death from over work). I do know it is free dress day where I work but this happens every Friday and so it’s easy for me to remember.

I think it is year of the dog, cat or rat, or maybe some other animal for the Chinese community and the UN probably has dubbed it the year something else. It is also the 10th, 25th, 50th 100th and 150th anniversary of something very important that happened 10, 25, 50, 100 and 150 years ago. Yes we all remember that one well don’t we? I was deeply touched during the service broadcast live from the very spot when it was replayed at the tail end of the news – just after the weather repor.

Days to remember or is it days to raise awareness? Probably both. Each day, month and year representing some accumulated lobbying, or may be just pushiness, by a particular group or individual. I guess some days are worth remembering, even if it is just to remind us what is real (and the world needs to take more notice of reality).

So since I can’t easily find what the special name of today is I shall call it Reality Day. A day to celebrate reality in all its glorious forms. A day to put down all those silly superstitions and unsupported beliefs and reach out and embrace what is real.

Now what would a name day would it be with out some method to show the world that you support reality? Some badge of honour to show that you care. Some method by which others can see your commitment to the cause of reality (and make them feel ashamed of their mumbo jumbo beliefs).

I propose that on this reality day we wear our normal clothes and behave as we always do. Do not talk to others about reality unless it is just a part of your every day conversation. Simply be polite and smile at strangers, colleagues and friends alike. If they respond positively you will know that they are also embracing reality.

Earth Inc

It has become apparent that the management organization in place at Earth has failed. In most applicable metrics the management has thus far has not delivered reasonable shareholder value given the capital invested and current levels of recurrent debt, and, has also failed to develop an acceptable future plan.

This has resulted from implementing, and strongly promoting, a policy where an unsustainable yield has been extracted from the planet while transferring most of the resultant gains from this activity for use by the management team. This has been at the expense of prudent re-investment and/or shareholder dividends. The management team have colluded to inflate salaries and provide exceptional fringe benefits for them selves. This has substantially reduced dividends for the average shareholder and will cause further eroding of shareholder value as we move forward.

The potential for future growth and long term share holder value has been severely, if not irrevocably, damaged by this failed policy of spiralling management overhead. Indeed the current level of borrowings used to service this policy may have already reached the point where net income is actually negative.

This is difficult to ascertain given the management teams reluctance to produce accurate statements of current accounts claiming that the company structure is too complex for ordinary accounting methods. In addition they have been actively preventing correct disclosure of known information and in many cases presenting false and misleading data in this regard. This is despite numerous calls from shareholders to develop open and accountable methods of disclosure.

Indeed many notable whistle blowers and rouge elements within the management team have already disclosed an alarming list of instances where the management should have, but have failed, to take action (except in the most tokenistic ways).

The management team is also clearly fragmented to the point where no consensus on future direction is possible, excepting offcourse, agreement that the current approach should be continued. Earth has been run for too long as a collection of unrelated enterprises, each supporting its own unwieldy and feudalistic management. In many well documented cases this has resulted in certain divisions actively undermining the operation of other divisions. This is clearly inefficient and has caused much of the problem with Earth as we find it now.

The failure of higher authorities to take action over this gross misconduct, despite numerous and repeated requests, makes it clear that action must be undertaken by the ordinary shareholder.

In regard to the lack of action on behalf of the higher authorities it is apparent that they;
a). they have insufficient resources to deal with the issues, or,
b). are actively involved in the management corruption, or,
c). their existence was fabricated by earlier management to assure shareholders that they were following the stated regulations while secretly lining their pockets.

Certainly it can be easily demonstrated that the regulators nominated representative on the planet have been actively involved in arranging and promoting the current failed management approach leading to speculation that c. is the correct assumption.

It is certain that the ordinary shareholder has been abandoned by both the regulator (if it actually exists as an independent entity) and management and, as such, it is up to us to formulate a rescue plan for Earth. There simply are no other reasonably expedient alternatives. This will not be simple or straight forward. Previous similar attempts at the division level have proved to be nearly as disastrous as the present system in delivering long term shareholder value. Cashing out your shares at this time will leave you with literally nothing.

It is proposed that the shareholders call an extraordinary meeting and demand the resignation, and forfeiture of accumulated benefits, of the current management team.
The size and complexity of the task requires input and effort by every ordinary share holder. In addition it is anticipated that the present management will put up considerable resistance to this move. It is understood they have more than enough resources to buy support from key shareholder blocks (at the expense of the remaining majority).

The following presents a rough agenda/key talking points for the proposed meeting

Item 1.

Acknowledge that the higher authorities are not going to help.

Item 2.

Agree actions for the removal of the current management structure

Item 3.

Identify past and/or existing management that have demonstrated loyalty to the ordinary share holder and recruit new, visionary, leaders from outside the existing management structure.

Item 4.

Elect the new management team

Item 5

Agree a future management strategy for the planets resources

Item 6

Agree the audit methodology for the new management system to ensure the existing condition does not re-occur.

I wish you all the best of luck.

Regards


Suburban Surrender

Window shopping

On one of the roads I take on my journey home every day is a little strip mall. Just a small collection of shop fronts facing a busy main road. They have probably occupied this position for the past thirty or forty years. They are badly located in the sense that this small group of shops is about 500m from the nearest set of traffic lights. The cars on the road usually whiz by with the drivers (such as myself) otherwise occupied avoiding the other cars.

On rare occasion the traffic will build to the point where it is stopped or going very slowly past this group of shops. This is the only time I notice these shops. One shop, in particular, intrigues me. It is a Ladies ‘fashion boutique’.

Imagine, if you will, a strip of shops of old, false front with a canter levered flat awning. Each shop has a large glass display window. The name of the shop and a frilly boarder are painted onto the large glass pane. In the dress shops window stands a mannequin exhibiting what I assume to be the most desirable frock in the store. Now I am no connoisseur of ladies fashion but the mannequin and the dress seem somewhat dated. In fact, I am not sure if it is not the same dress I see on these well separated occasions.

Now I am a bit of a fan of science fiction and also a tad pre-occupied with what time is (This Blog would stand as good evidence of that fact). It should then come as no surprise that my immediate thought as I pass slowly past this shop is of the H G Wells’ time machine story. Specifically the part where the heroes view of the world, as he shoots forward in time, is a dress shop window. I am afraid to say that the hero would be rather bored by this window. No changing with the season and year for this one.

An other thought I had would be to take a picture every few months for a decade or so and compile it as an animation. Just like the time machine movie, but real. I guess this would be a tad dull given the apparent static nature of the display. Maybe the photographic record would prove me wrong.

I might be being a bit cruel. Maybe the shop is targeting more formal ladies wear, those timeless garments that are worn on high occasions (like a private girls school formal or to the opera). Yes I know such garments are subject to the whims of fashion but the subtlety of change is beyond my ability to discern. A frilly satin dress is a frilly satin dress. Maybe they make money handover fist selling to older clientele. Who knows?

I first noticed the shop at least six years ago, so what ever the formula, it is enough to keep the shop open; or may be something else. What if the owner actually died six years ago but had set up some automatic payment for the various bills? Perhaps there is a mummified shop keeper sitting at the counter. The sort of situation where the other shop keepers ‘noticed a bad smell a few years ago but thought it was the plumbing playing up’.


I wonder if they sell blue rinse as well?

Freedom

Freedom.

I don’t really understand what freedom is. I have always thought I’ve had it so my understanding is one sided. It is a word with yes no connotations but in truth it is another of those grey words that are sprayed around willy nilly as solid and tangible.

To me freedom is defined by the ability to choose. I will always have that to some degree. I will always be free. I think the measure of freedom is the cost of the choice. I feel it is a common misconception to equate freedom with the lack of consequences for your actions. Freedom always has cost.

The most fundamental freedom is what you think but do not act on. While you are conscious it is very difficult to mess with that one and it has no cost. From there on each freedom extracts a price that is set by your situation and society. As the freedom scale escalates the number of people able to exercise a particular freedom, choice or whim reduces. The cost of each freedom option exercised, by nature, will restrict other freedoms.

Others will mess with your freedom; meddle with the choices you make. The simple method used is to adjust the perceived cost of a choice. The carrot or the stick. Drink Coke, be beautiful, drink Coke, be unhealthy, the choice is yours.

I often hear the term “they are taking away my freedom”. No, the anonymous They, are just making it more costly to exercise. You can still do what ever you want as long as you can pay the price.

Bobby McGee said that freedom’s just another word for nothing left to loose, or was that Kris Kristofferson? But really that just isn’t right. Having nothing certainly gives you the freedom to do stupid things but not great things. As a rule the more you have (money, education, status ect) the greater choices you have, bigger choices, higher cost choices, more freedom. The cost may be higher but that is the sliding scale of freedom at work.

In the end there is no true freedom, or lack of it, just degrees.

One Hundred Million

A minor celebration occurred this week that you probably missed. It was to mark the (estimated) production of the 100 millionth AK-47. Say the number slowly while you thinking about what it means. ONE HUNDRED MILLION, numerically;100,000,000.

It is reported as the most illegally traded weapon in the world. In central Africa you can pick one up for as little as US$2 (two days wages in that part of the world). During the cold was the USSR and China gave them away for free to communist revolutionaries (while the US provides similar deals to groups they liked). Cheap, accessible and deadly.

The AK-47, a weapon favoured by armies, revolutionaries and insurgence around the globe. A weapon estimated to kill an average 100,000 people per year. Favoured because of its simplicity – seven moving parts, its simplicity – a child soldier can re-assemble it in 2 seconds, its simplicity – it will work when badly abused, its simplicity – it is cheap to manufacture, its simplicity – pull the trigger and it fires at about 600 rounds per minute.

It’s all very simple, especially for 6,000,000 whose life ended after encountering a bulled fired by this weapon. The families and friends of these people may argue that point. Ponder for a while at what it was like when someone you loved died, if you have been lucky then imagine what it would be like. How much misery, how many tears? These have not been tallied.


Guns don’t kill people…..bullets do.

The path not taken

Last night I missed an opportunity of a life time; my first and perhaps last chance to rush the stage at a heavy metal concert. A friend of mine managed to wrangle a couple of free tickets to the Deep Purple concert that happened in my town last night.

We went to the venue box office as directed but his name wasn’t on the door list. My friend dropped a few names and the lady, looking sceptical, went of to check. At this point, and for the five minutes that followed, my friend was looking slightly agitated and dejected mumbling curses. I was experiencing only mild disappointed. Three hours previously I had planned to spend the evening at home with my new computer (I picked that up yesterday as well) then my mate called. Going back home to nerd out was a good fallback plan, I was happy whichever way. Well the lady came back all smiles and politeness and handed us the tickets – seats C13 & 14!. Three rows back and centre stage.

I am not a devoted fan of the Purps, they were a bit before my time (or Status Quo, who were the support) but I like a lot of their stuff and I do love a live show so I was fairly pumped. We got seated just after the opener finished, a local band, apparently they were good, the punters around us were full of praise. So we took our seats and watch the stage being set for Status Quo.

The lights dimmed, a deep synth bass note filled the hall and out they came. Blam and straight into a set full of their hits. Every one in the front stood and remained standing for the show. These are fairly old musos but they belted out each song and put on a great guitar show. The crowd clapped in the appropriate parts and sung along and in great voice. It just amazes me how crappy the crowd sounds when you are up the back but how great it sounds down near the front.

Anyway as the set progressed the odd fan started moving forward. There was a good 1 ½ meters between the stage barrier and the front row so there was a decent standing area. The show rocked on and the row in front of me was virtually empty – they had all jumped the seat to get to the stage barrier and be with the punters from the front row. At this point I could have easily hopped the two rows of chars and taken my place at the barrier. Instead I just stood my ground and rocked along with the event.

I looked back at one point and saw a middle aged woman holding up a banner - ‘xxx – you still have it’, I can’t remember the name. Up front (in my spot) a couple of younger lads (maybe 30ish) had on metal hair wigs and were banging away and doing air guitar – just great. Every one was on their feet, every one nodding, or shuffling, or making hand gestures or some combination of all of these. The improvised mosh pit of the elder was rocking. Very rock and roll in a, how can I say this nicely, mature way.

The set finished and the crowd dispersed, out for drinks or a smoke or just back to their seats. We just sat and watched for the 15 minute break while the stage was dismantled and re-assembled for Deep Purple. Deep Purple, a legendary band, a band that has had more line ups and albums released than most but here they were to do a gig in my town. This band that placed musical virtuosity beyond all else. And for me the originators of metal (excluding Led Zeppelin offcourse). I was buzzing.

Once more the house lights dimmed, the synth aria commenced as the band moved into place. Every one in the front stood once more, but this time with more respect and awe. We watched as the lead dabbled, strangled and loved his instrument. Power waves of bass washed the audience as we started to loosen up. A few early opportunists moved forward. Once more the set progressed through familiar tunes and once more the opportunity to be in the front row was passed up. I just stood with my mate and watched these old guys belt out some of the most recognisable tunes in the genera.

They worked hard and performed as expected, this band that had helped set the pace for what would become heavy metal. But more than screeching guitar. This is controlled distortion. Melodies and bass riffs in a style that many others have imitated since. Keyboards and organ sounds, rotating speakers; it was there. The vocal performance was strong, but not as strong as maybe 30 years ago but effort and emotion were present by the bucket full. We, the crowd, sung, clapped, shuffled and cheered.

And so the show ended after an encore. The magic stopped, the crowd dispersed and the arena was once more just a sporting venue.

I had trouble sleeping. Ringing ears, repeated riffs and the regret of not moving forward kept me conscious.

Rock and Roll!

A New PC

After months of learning and getting back up to speed it is time to buy a new PC. I like to get into the nitty gritty of what is on offer and where the technology is going before I commit to a purchase. I like to find that sweet spot between price and performance. It’s also good to brush up my hardware knowledge so I can talk to my fellow nerds.

It isn’t easy. My aim is to spend within a budget range and get the best performance and longevity. It has to be reliable and quite (my current desk top sounds like a wind tunnel facility). It will be my partners primary work station so office apps and ergonomics come heavily in to consideration. I also want a machine that will still be able to run the games released at least three years from now (may be not well, but still be enjoyable).

I started by winnowing down the processor. I do a lot of multi-tasking and flicking between apps, so does my partner, so a dual core CPU seemed to be the way to got. I know MS Vista will be optimised for dual core 64 bit but it is doubtful that I would upgrade the op system once I have the machine (XP 64 pro chosen). Best bang for buck equated to the AMD 64 X2 3800 processor ( I have only had Intel processors in one out of my past PCs (excluding the laptops).

Now the mother board was a no brainier the ASUS A8N-SLI hits exactly my price/performance expectation and has a heap of features that are appropriate to a moderate machine that will sit on a desk. It has been around for a while and has a good rep out there in the geekosphere. I have used either Asus or MSI in my previous machines with no issues. With that decision made the memory type was set (I would like to have gone with a pair of corsair 512M modules but the no name brand will suffice). It will be interleaved so the marginal performance boost through over clocking the RAM was not worth it.

Video card technology moves so quick and I have never followed developments so a fair bit of research was required. The ASUS board supports SLI and I discovered that a pair of NVIDIA 6600GT 256MB cards in SLI mode outperform a single 7800GT card at about ½ the cost.

Like wise I was going to go for a 400GB hard disk (in keeping with my tradition of increasing HD capacity by > 5x the previous machine) and found that a pair of 200GB drives was cheaper with the added advantage of being able to back up important stuff like my MP3 files between them (one person is laughing now). The dual SATA channels will support another two drives if video processing/storage becomes big in our house over the next three years.

The monitor was interesting, I have ended up specifying a 20” wide screen. My laptop has a widescreen format and I have found this very useable. The extra screen space and higher resolution allows you to spread out your open windows. It is a real productivity boost – even those dumb side panels in Office apps become useful. I also noted that the latest ergonomic research shows big productivity boost/reduced stress with larger screen sizes.

The sad thing was the sound card. I had my heart set on a top end Creative card. I like to fiddle with audio from time to time and the Creative X-FI Fatal1ty fitted the bill but the bill was too high so it was axed (for the time being). Again it was a good performance cost compromise but it would have blown the budget. The Asus board has an almost acceptable solution built in so I will live with that. I guess I will upgrade before I record and produce my sons Christmas album for his grandmothers later this year.

The rest of it is fairly much standard stuff with the exception of the Logitech wireless keyboard/mouse combo – got to keep the desk tidy and the keyboard got top marks for ergonomics (and my mark for economics).

Well it should be ready for pick up next week so next weekend it should be up and running. I hope it will be as reliable as the last four.